


take my hand, let's burn these bridges down

by limonido



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Critical Role Spoilers, Established Relationship, M/M, Some comfort, its just angst sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 06:04:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15679485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/limonido/pseuds/limonido
Summary: “Come to bed, love.” Mollymauk says behind him, urging, pleading. “Come to bed, it's late."orMolly's gone, and Caleb's haunted





	take my hand, let's burn these bridges down

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, this is my first fic I've posted online in actual years, please be kind (and forgive the inevitable mistakes) <3
> 
> I'm weeks behind on Criticial Role but have needed to vent all these Molly feels, so here, have this

Caleb is mid-sentence when he hears the voice behind him.

“At your books again? How am I not surprised.”

His quill tip scratches harshly against the page, ink forming a jagged slash amidst his lettering as he freezes. He was back in the Leaky Tap, back in Zadash after weeks spent on the road. There was no one else in his room, he was sure. His little silver thread had offered up no alarm, and Nott chose to stay elsewhere these days. There’s only Frumpkin, lounging with him on the desk amid the books Caleb’s left strewn open, tail twitching slightly. His eyes, reflecting firelight from the mass of candles Caleb has lit, stare off over Caleb’s shoulder, into seemingly empty space.

“You always were so dedicated to those books of yours.” The voice says, coming up closer. “How your brain hasn’t combusted yet is a wonder in itself.”

Caleb’s fingers tighten around his quill, nearly snapping it in two. He knows that voice, of course he does, would recognize it anywhere, even if he was blind and dying. But that's impossible, because that person was gone, left buried at the side of a road miles and miles away.

“You’ve been staying up so late these days, love.” The voice of Mollymauk Tealeaf says. “Isn’t it time you sleep?”

Caleb closes his eyes and lays his face in his palms, body bent over the desk, covered by stacks upon stacks of books. He had been going through them for days on end, relentlessly searching for even the tiniest hint, the smallest lead, that could help them. The books themselves were centuries old, and contained things, dark things, that were better left unread. "I can't." He whispers to empty air. Because Molly wasn't here, couldn't be here. It's just some trick, some conjuration of his tired brain,, he hasn't slept, of course he's hallucinating-

He hears Mollymauk tsk. "Well now, that just simply isn't true." Caleb flinches. "You haven't slept for three days; don’t think I’m not aware of these things. It's time you take a rest." 

Caleb feels hands on his shoulders, cold and clammy, rubbing at the knots that built up in his muscles. He shudders at the touch, but doesn’t have the strength to push them away. Ancient runes swim beneath his eyelids, spelling out the stuff of nightmares in his mind. Damn it all, even if he was crazy, if this was a hallucination, Caleb's too exhausted to fight against it. 

"These books drain you, I swear.” Mollymauk says, voice murmuring right into Caleb’s ear. “Come to bed, love.” He says, urging, pleading. “Come to bed, it's late."

Late it was indeed. The moon had already risen, full and luminous, moonlight washing into Caleb’s inn room. There’s a cup of tea to his right, brought to him by a well-meaning Caduceus hours ago, stone cold and completely untouched. Caleb is a gifted liar, better than most, but even he can’t pretend like he isn’t tired. His whole body aches, a weariness he feels straight down to his bones, and deeper still, straight to the soul. The idea of rest is one woefully impossible to resist.

And Caleb has done worse things than give in to the requests of ghosts.

He opens his eyes and reluctantly pushes to his feet. The room spins, just for a moment. There’s a sensation in the air, like the dispelling of magic, before a light wind whips through the room, breathing around him like a contented sigh, and all the candles are extinguished as one. Caleb is immersed in darkness, save for the moon’s silver light, but still he closes his eyes.

Cold arms encircle him from behind. "Thank you." Mollymauk says, voice relieved, and gives him a tight squeeze before releasing. Caleb lets himself be guided to the room’s bed, feet dragging, until his legs bump against the mattress. He obeys when Molly gently pushes him down into a lying position, his head resting on a pillow, eyes still closed. It feels heavenly, he admits to himself quietly. There’s a shift in the mattress as Molly lays down besides him, and some fumbling in the sheets as Caleb searches until he finds Molly’s hand. It's cold, cold like a stone, like a snowy grave, but Caleb clasps it tight and intertwines their fingers. Cool lips brush against his forehead, but he keeps his eyes closed, doesn’t want to lose this.

“You need a bath.” Mollymauk teases, running his free hand through Caleb’s tangled hair, gently coaxing out the knots and snares.  
Caleb lets himself relax into the touch, head dragging with the rhythm of Molly’s strokes.

“Do I ever not?” 

Molly huffs a laugh. “You have a point,” he says. “Did you like my little trick? Before, with the wind?”

They speak like lovers, words hushed in the shared space between them, as if their breaths still mingled with the other’s, as if both hearts still beat. For the first time in- well, a while, really, Caleb lets a smile grow at his lips. “I was quite impressed. Did you learn it all on your own?”

He feels it as Molly shrugs. “I’ve had a bit of help from friends.” He says, and leaves it at that. There’s a long pause, filled with nothing but the sound Caleb’s breathing and the sensation of Molly’s fingers combing through his hair. It’s nice, nicer than he deserves. Caleb finds himself sinking deeper and deeper into the feeling, sleep eventually beginning to creep in his mind, dark and blissfully numbing. 

Until Molly says: “Speaking of friends…” and Caleb tenses up, wide awake in an instant, any traces of sleep ripped away, eyes nearly flying open. “How’re our’s holding up? ” Molly’s voice is light, seemingly calm, nonchalant, but there’s an undertone that even Caleb doesn’t miss.

“They…” Caleb begins, and closes his mouth. Opens, closes. “...They are well.” He settles on. “Tired after our journey, that’s no surprise. They, ah, miss you. I think they are all coping, in their own ways, you know. Beau-”

“Caleb.”

He swallows. “Yes?”

“When’s the last time you talked to any of them? A proper conversation, not just let them speak at you and mumble back a few words.”

And that hurts, truly hurts, because Caleb doesn’t know. It was easier, back when they were still hunting down Lorenzo, when vengeance was enough to unify them all and push Caleb forward. Now, with their deed done, the others were moving on, but Caleb’s still caught in the eddies, circling. Because Molly’s gone, he’s gone, and Caleb doesn’t know what to do. He feels like he’s a teenager again, back on that cursed autumn night, watching sparks drift into the sky as his parent’s home burned down to the bone. Lost, and broken. 

Books were his only salvation back then, and they are again now. Somewhere, somewhere, there has to be a solution, a way to fix things, bring back what was taken. So Caleb searches, and reads, and if he ends up cutting off the others that were (maybe) close to him, that’s alright too. 

“Caleb…” Molly murmurs, and Caleb hums in response. There’s a lump in his throat, and he doesn’t think he could talk if he tried. “How are you coping?” Molly asks, as if he doesn’t know already, as if the state Caleb’s in isn’t answer enough. The lump expands, overflows, and Caleb can’t bring himself to say it, can’t say ‘I’m not’, so instead he shifts forward, eyes forever closed, until his face is buried against Molly’s shoulder.

“Oh, love,” Mollymauk sighs and wraps his arms around him, holding him as Caleb begins to shake. 

“I-” Caleb says wetly, tries again, “I never-”

Molly shushes him gently. “I know, love. I know.” They stay like that, Caleb’s grief crashing down on him like an ocean, Molly helping him keep his head afloat. Eventually, Caleb’s breaths begin to even out, tremors ceasing, and the threat of drowning draws further and further away. He feels wrung dry, spread thin, but the pain that sits heavy in his chest seems lighter, even if only a little. Now, he’s just tired.

“Eat some breakfast in the morning,” Molly coaxes gently. “Go downstairs, sit with the others. They can help, more than I can. Because this? This isn’t healthy, Caleb, and you need to stop doing this to yourself.”

Molly tugs him closer, and Caleb shivers, this time from the cold. “I can’t,” Caleb says, sleep beginning to overtake his mind, exhaustion catching up rapidly. “I need to find away to bring you back to us, to me, and-”

"Don't you understand?" Mollymauk pushes him away, holding his face in both hands. Caleb keeps his eyes closed. "I swear to you, if you keep going the way you do, this will kill you."

"Hmm." Caleb hums, corners of his mouth lifting up slightly into a grimace. "That wouldn't be so bad."

The hands tighten on his face. "Don't say that.” Mollymauk’s voice shakes. “Don't you dare say that. Your life is worth so much more than a memory of mine. Listen to me, I'm not worth it."

"I think you are." Caleb says, words slurring maybe a little. "You're worth the whole world. I would burn it all for you."

Molly sighs angrily. "Listen to me, Caleb. There isn't a way for you, or for me in that matter, to come out alive at the end of this. You need to stop."

"At least," Caleb says, struggling to stay awake and wiggling closer, "at least, if I die, I'll get to see you again. That's a definite upside, I think."

Mollymauk wraps his arms around him once more and buries his face into Caleb’s hair. "But I don't want you to die." He says, barely audible. "I want you to live. I want you to be happy. For the others, for yourself."

"They're worth nothing without you." 

“Caleb..." Mollymauk says, a warning tone to his voice.

"Hmm?"

"I've accepted it. Why can't you?"

"Because…” Caleb furrows his brow, fingers clutching into the fabric of Mollymauk’s coat, “Because I am selfish. Because everyone I’ve ever loved has been ripped away from me, in some form or another." He opens his eyes, and he’s alone, room empty once more, nothing but his books and moonlight, streaming through the window. All traces of Molly gone. “And I will either find a way to right those wrongs, or die trying.”

Caleb closes his eyes. This time, Molly doesn’t come back. There’s no arms around him, no body pressed close to his. Even so, he feels so much colder than before. Caleb curls into himself, fists a hand through his hair, and rocks. There’s Zemnian lullabies floating in his mind, but they’re all tinged with ash. Somehow, miraculously, he manages to fall fitfully into sleep. But right before he loses consciousness, before he slips into disturbing dreams of black swords and earthen graves, he could swear he hears words whispered into his ear, quiet, infinitely sad.

"You need to learn when to let go, Caleb."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! My tumblr's citronido , feel free to come say hi!


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